Just three words
by the frozen cherry
Summary: A series of one shots, based on three words from the Harry Potter series. We've had: A Sherbert lemon, Dear Mr Potter and I'm Hermione Granger, now up next: Just in case! please read and review!
1. A sherbet lemon?

**Just three words...**

**... a sherbet lemon? ~Albus Dumbledore **

Professor Albus Dumbledore had many defining features. His long white beard, half moon glasses and a twinkle in his bright blue eyes were some of them. As was his love for chamber music, incredible intelligence, compassion and extremely long name. He loved his mother, but he had always asked himself why she had inflicted him with a name such as Albus Percival Wulfic Brian Dumbledore. However, one of his most notable characteristics was is love of sherbet lemons.

If you had asked him how he came across this delightfully sugary and sour sweet, he could launch into a long epic tale. In this tale he would recount how he ventured in to muggle London with his best friend Elphias Doge when they were meant to be shopping for school supplies. He would recall how they came across this curious little sweet shop down an alley just off Oxford Street. Dumbledore would then claim that Doge dared him to try this foreign strange sweet and it was placed on his anxious tongue, Doge looking on in admiration; it was love at first taste. His faith in sweets, which had been broken with an unfortunate incident involving Bertie Botts' Every Flavour Beans and a chocolate frog, had now been restored. He had never tasted a sweet which made his tongue both relax and the sweetness and cringe as the sherbet was unleashed onto it. He would say that he was never thankful enough for his friend for introducing him to the joys of the Sherbet Lemon.

However, that would be a lie. He had tasted sherbet lemons before. The real reason he liked sherbet lemons was because they reminded him of him mother, and of happier times. Kendra Dumbledore was a muggle born witch and, because of the society of the time, was ashamed of her heritage. She acted like a pureblood, not owning or buying anything that bore any significance of her past. Apart from her one weakness, her Achilles heel, her guilty pleasure: Sherbet lemons. Albus remembered when, in the happy days of his childhood, before his father went to prison and Ariana was traumatised, his mother would work around the house humming softly, sucking a sherbet lemon. Their enticing smell was always floating around the house; it even made its way into clothes and sheets. At the end of a long day, filled with innocent childish things, like fighting make believe dragons - if he had been good, he was rewarded with one precious sweet from the hidden supply in the pantry, before going to bed.

As he grew older, sherbet lemons became a reminder of his past in the dark times. To him, they stayed a symbol of hope. He felt that he should offer this heavenly sweet to everyone. It hurt him when even his closest friends turned him down or looked up at him in surprise or confusion, but then with a twinkle in his eye he would take the humble yellow sweet, pop it in his mouth, smile, and carry on.

No matter how bad things got or down he felt, whether he was in exile or in his office, his never-ending supply of sherbet lemons was always near him.


	2. YouKnowWho

**Just three words...**

**... You-Know-Who ~Various Characters**

You-Know-Who, He Who Must Not Be Bamed, The Dark Lord: all names for one individual, a certain evil genius. Tom Marvelo Riddle.

Lord Voldemort was quite proud that his name was so infamous that people could not bear to utter it. However, deep down he was also rather annoyed.

Do you know how long it takes to come up with a name for an evil dark wizard?

The greatest of all time?

He had to think really hard to fashion himself a name which was not only individual and recognisable, but would also put unbelievable amounts of fear into people.

He had tried several names:

The Master? Too science fiction.

The Riddler? But that would imply that he only spoke in riddles.

Count Riddicula? That made him sound like a blood sucking vampire. Sure, he was really pale and had blood red eyes, but...no.

He had nearly killed someone with joy when he discovered LORD VOLDEMORT, after arranging an anagram of his full name. He was now a master at anagrams. Lord Voldemort was his third attempt; Immortal lover and Moved Drollrot did not quite make the cut.

So as he relaxed back into his old wooden chair and lazily stroked Nagini, he contemplated why he had spent so long thinking up a name when no one called him it. Even his Death Eaters, his own loyal followers, called him something else. Dumbledore had the nerve to just ignore all his hard work and called him Tom anyway.

Deciding that he was getting far too stressed over such a trivial matter, he turned his mind to more important things like killing Harry Potter and taking over the world!

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><p><em>A massive thank-you to clonedmemories for proof reading! :)<em>


	3. Can't believe it!

**Just three words...**

**... can't believe it!~ Minerva McGonagall**

To say that Minerva McGonagall was shocked was an understatement. She was not just shocked, but deeply upset. She inwardly cursed the unfairness of the world, which had caused two exceptionally talented and incredible people to be killed. James and Lily were in the prime of their lives; they were so young, just 21, with a young son. Now they were dead, gone, departed from this life, taken by a cruel twist of fate. They did not deserve to die, to be killed in cold blooded murder, leaving a child behind. A son who would not remember his parents and their sacrifice.

As an experienced teacher, Minerva knew she was not meant to have favourites, but sometimes she could not help it, so occasionally she did, just trying to keep her favouritism out of the classroom. James Potter was amazing at transfiguration; he had a natural flare for the subject, which was very hard to come by. He was also charming, intelligent and a huge prankster. On top of that, he just happened to have a massive crush for a certain red haired Gryffindor. Watching James and Lily's love evolve over the years was fascinating and somewhat beautiful to watch at the same time. It was a story that she was sure would go down in Hogwarts legend.

She could still remember overhearing a twelve year old James telling his best friend Sirius that he really liked 'Evans' the talented muggleborn girl in their house. The epic fights between the two of them were held frequently in various places around the school and grounds. The hexes that were fired, the insults and declarations of love that were exchanged; Lily was throwing the insults while James passionately stated his never ending love for his 'Lily-Flower'.

She also remembered the way James suddenly matured in the summer between the fifth and sixth year. Minerva recalled another overheard conversation, in which a puzzled Lily voiced her confusion at the fact that James Potter had not asked her out anymore; he hadn't said anything to her about it in months, even though it had been a regular weekly event since the third year.

Minerva remembered the horror and surprise she had felt when Dumbledore announced the new Head Boy and Girl for the 1976-77 school year. However, she was relieved that for the most part. James and Lily had decided to call a truce and get on with each other for the sake of the school. She knew that secretly James was still pining after Lily. They both changed. James spent less time performing pranks with the Marauders and Lily stopped spending most of her time in the school library, buried under a huge mountain of old books.

She could still picture, clear as day, the Quidditch match which changed all their lives. It was the 1977 final between Gryffindor and Slytherin and, for that reason, highly competitive. James Potter, the star chaser of the Gryffindor team scored the final goal of the match, taking advantage of the momentary lapse in the Slytherin defence, as the Gryffindor seeker pulled slightly ahead in the chase for the Golden Snitch and snatched it from under the opposing player's nose.

Three quarters of the stadium erupted in celebration. The victorious team landed triumphantly and, as the cup was being presented to them, a red blur ran down from the stands onto the pitch and into the dazed James' arms. Then, right in front of the entire school, Lily Evans gave James Potter a kiss to remember. Murmurs of shock reverberated around the stadium. McGonagall smiled; she knew that, in the end, Lily would not be able to resist the Potter charm.

The couple were much in love for the remainder of the school year, during their NEWTS and the Seventh Years' Leavers Ball. They were like a glimmer of hope in the darkening wizarding world. It was no surprise to anyone, apart from themselves, that they later became engaged and quickly married. The war was now at its peak and the famous couple, The Potters, members of the Order of the Phoenix, were at the very heart of it.

Walking away from Privet Drive and from Harry James Potter, their son, born nine months after their wedding, Minerva wiped away a small traitorous tear which had escaped from her normally stern eyes. She not only shed a tear for the poor boy, who had been left to the mercy of his muggle Aunt and Uncle, on their doorstep, but also for the two lives which had been cut short far too soon.

She could not believe it.

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><p><em>Thanks to cloniedmemories for making sure it was canon<em>


	4. Dear Mr Potter

**Just three words...**

**_Dear Mr Potter ~V_arious letters**

_Dear Mr Potter,_

_I am delighted to inform you that you have been chosen to be Head Boy of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for the 1976-77 school year..._

'Yes!' a happy James Potter exclaimed. 'Yes, yes yes!' he repeated, jumping up and down in his bedroom, causing all the other inhabitants of Potter Manor to run to the cause of the disturbance.

'What is it, Mate?' a slightly confused Sirius Black remarked, poking his head around the door. 'What's got you so excited?'

'I'm the new Head Boy,' James proclaimed proudly.

'The what?'

'Head Boy.'

'And you're pleased about this?'

James nodded his head, fingering the badge carefully as if it was some precious jewel.

'Who are you, and what did you do to James Potter?' the incredulous Sirius asked. _'_What happened to all_ prefects are prats_ and _rules were made to be broken_?'

'But Sirius, don't you get it?' his friend replied.

'no'

'Evans is going to be head girl!' And with that statement he let out a whoop of delight.

Shaking his head slightly, his friend closed the door and headed downstairs to tell the curious Mrs Potter what was causing the chandelier to shake so violently.

* * *

><p><em>Dear Mr Potter,<em>

_We have received intelligence that you performed the patronus charm at twenty-three minutes past nine this evening in a muggle inhabited area and in the presence of a Muggle. The severity of this breaking of the Decree for Reasonable Underage Sorcery has resulted in your expulsion from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry..._

Harry Potter felt numb. It was like a bucket of icy water had been thrown over him.

_Numb. shock._

He was expelled from Hogwarts. He could never go back. It was his home.

_Numb. Shock. Horror_

What was he going to do now? He knew he could not stay living with his Aunt and Uncle. Maybe, he thought, maybe he could go and live with his godfather, Sirius, currently on the run from the Ministry of Magic. They could be two law breakers together. Another thought popped into his head. Did they, his godfather, best friends, even Dumbledore, even know?

_Numb. Shock. Horror. Bewilderment._

What was going to happen now? They were coming to destroy his wand.

Harry fingered the offending item carefully. It was his one link to the magic world that he took with him everywhere; he felt slightly lost and powerless without it. It was also another link to a figure which haunted Harry's life. Lord Voldemort. Their wands shared the same core, Phoenix feather.

_Numb. Shock. Horror. Bewilderment. Loneliness._

Was anyone going to help him? He looked to his Aunt, his only living blood relative, but she was oblivious to her nephew's plight and was fussing over her 'Darling Dudders'. Then, through the open window, Harry caught sight of another owl, silhouetted against the moon. It swooped gracefully through the window towards him. In a show of desperation, he grabbed the letter from the poor owl and read it hungrily.

_Numb. Shock. Horror. Bewilderment. Loneliness...Relief_

* * *

><p><em>Dear Mr Potter<em>

_I am delighted to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry..._

'Ha!' cried Albus Potter, smacking his hand down on the breakfast table, causing all the cutlery to shake. 'Ha!' he repeated with joy. 'Look, James,' he said, turning to his older brother, who was busily shovelling food into his mouth - a trait, his mother claimed, had been inherited from his uncle Ron.

'What?' James replied, turning to face his annoying younger brother, who was currently brandishing a letter in his face.

'I got in, I told you I would!' Albus remarked in delight.

'We knew you would,' his mother commented, smiling proudly, having overheard her younger son's words. 'I guess this means a visit to Diagon Alley'.

'Just because you got in, doesn't mean that you're going to be placed in Gryffindor,' James replied. 'The sorting hat might see how annoying you are and place you in Syltherin!'

'I won't."

'Will.'

'Won't.'

'Will.'

'Won't!'

'Will!'

'Won't!'

'Will!'

'Won't!'

'BOYS!' Ginny Potter shouted. Harry swore, peering out from behind his Daily Prophet at the opposite end of the table, that his lovely wife, was beginning to sound more like her mother when she was angry, knowing just how dangerous Molly Weasley could be!

'Mum,' came little Lily's voice innocently from the table, 'when can I go to Hogwarts?'

Mr and Mrs Potter sighed, surveying their children. It was going to be a long day.

* * *

><p><em>AN I don't own Harry Potter :( Harry's letter taken from 'Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix' chapter 2_


	5. Motorbikes don't fly!

**Just three words...**

**Motorbikes don't fly~ Vernon Dursley**

To Sirius Black, the purchase of his motorbike was another of his many ways to express his rebellion against his family's prejudiced beliefs and ideals. He was in Gryffindor, had run away from home and aspired to join the Order of the Phoenix. Now he had purchased a Muggle motorbike.

He loved his broom as a method of transport. He liked apparating. He hated the floo network. But as he was passing through Muggle London, on his way to meet a nice, pretty girl at the Leaky Cauldron, a motorbike drove passed him. Sirius stopped dead in his tracks on the pavement of Tottenham Court Road. It was beautiful. It was sleek, elegant; a living metaphor for freedom and independence, the two things he craved.

A couple of days later, he had bought his own. This particular model also had a side car. When he saw it in the showroom, he could immediately envision himself zipping down country roads, the wind rushing through his hair, with one of his unsuspecting friends, or another lovely lady, by his side – in the side car, of course.

Then, another thought occurred to him: why not make it fly? He was a wizard, after all. He could soar through the endless sky and speed down the Muggle roads, the best of both worlds. It would be like having a broom, only somewhat cooler. Everyone had a broom, but only Sirius Black had a flying motorbike!


	6. I'm Hermione Granger

**Just three words...**

**I'm Hermione Granger~ Hermione Granger**

'There is no denying that Hermione Weasley, or Granger, as she when I first met her, was a magnificent witch. She was frequently called the brightest witch of our age and I doubt I would've been able to defeat Voldemort without her,' Harry said, addressing the crowd which had gathered in The Burrow's old orchard, a scene of happier times. They had all gathered for one reason: Hermione's funeral. She had chosen to be buried next to her husband and family in this secluded area, under the old oak tree, a place near where a younger Hermione and Ron had finally married.

'I am proud to say I knew the real Hermione,' Harry stated. 'She achieved many great things in her life: she improved magical creatures' working conditions, encouraged the end to the discrimination against Muggleborns, werewolves and non magic people and also became Minister for Magic and introduced many great laws. She should be remembered for these amazing achievements. However, more importantly, she should be remembered for being a spectacular person.'

Harry paused and looked around at the assembled wizarding folk. The whole of the extended Weasley-Potter-Malfoy-Lupin family were there, along with many friends, creatures and foreign wizard representatives. It was as if the weather was mocking them; it was a clear day, not a single cloud in the sky, and the sun gently shone through the trees of the orchard.

'She was one of the most kind hearted people I have ever met, apart from one incident during my third year, involving a broom stick sent from my infamous godfather, when really she was only looking out for me. She was always was there for me. During my quest for the horcruxes, when everyone else, including my other best friend, had given up, she stayed with me and never gave up hope. She was my best friend, confidante and sister. She had this ability to listen and gave the most amazing advice ever.' A small tear escaped from his green eyes, and his voice momentarily caught in his throat. He could not believe he was the last of the 'golden trio' to be alive. After all he had been through, he had always thought that he would be one of the first to go. He glanced to his wife sitting on the front row for support. Ginny's flaming red hair had long since faded to white, but she still retained a youthful look. With one arm around her sobbing daughter Lily, through her own tears she looked up and gave Harry an encouraging smile.

'She was also very stubborn, a trait she shared with her late husband. Love at first sight? The first thing she told Ron was that he had dirt on his nose and that he was doing a spell wrong!' A few people laughed. 'The arguments between those two,' Harry continued, 'were epic. I felt that they would never realise how much they liked each other. It actually took a battle, Ron defending House Elves and some Basilisk fangs for them to get together. They were only parted when Ron was tragically killed 15 years ago while on duty with the Auror department, a couple of weeks before he would have retired. Hermione was a fantastic wife, mother of two beautiful children - Rose, who followed in her mother's footsteps into magical law, and Hugo, who became a beater for his father's favourite team - and a doting grandmother.'

'We should celebrate her life, her wonderful life, and what she did for the magical community. I hope that she is now in a better place, together with the loved ones who have passed before us.' Harry then turned his back on the audience, waved his wand and, like the little man had done at Dumbledore's funeral all those years ago, lowered Hermione Granger-Weasley into her final resting place, reuniting her with her husband.

Later, when Harry finally reached the seclusion of his home - he had spent the rest of the day thanking people for attending, reminiscing with various friends about Hermione and comforting various family members who were deeply affected by this respected women's passing - he finally broke; he had tried to remain strong for everyone else, but now, finally, in the presence of his wife, in the darkened living room, he let out all of the day's emotions that had been building up inside, his fortress of facade finally crumbling down.

'Oh Ginny,' he cried as she held him tenderly, 'I don't know what I'm going to do without her!'

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><p><em>AN Thanks for reading my story, i've been really encouraged by the number of people reading. This is my first attempt at a fan fiction so it would be lovely if I could have a couple of reviews just telling me what you think and what I could improve._

Thanks! ~ Cherry


	7. Nimbus Two Thousand

**Just three words...**

**Nimbus Two Thousand~ Ron Weasley**

It was as Harry was installing his possessions into his and Ginny's new home, Ivy Cottage that he discovered something he had forgotten about for nearly 10 years. He found it in an old box which contained other items which had come from the Dursley's after the war. It was the broken handle from his first real broom, the name _Nimbus Two Thousand, _written in curling gold script, half chipped away.

He remembered that eventful quidditch match, the match with the dementors, in his third year. The third match he had ever lost and the match in which he landed once again, in the hospital wing. As he had fallen, the fierce storm had blown his precious broom into the unforgiving Whomping Willow.

Harry recalled gentle fingering the shard of broom, how devastated he had been when he awoke in the hospital wing, to be told a guilty Hermione that his beloved broom, his faithful companion was destroyed and completely beyond repair. Carefully when all his visitors had left he carefully selected from within the numerous broken twigs, the handle which was miraculously, not as damaged as the rest of the broom. When he was later released from the hospital wing and the overbearing nature of Madame Pomfrey, he added it to the general junk in his trunk, the last reminder of a great broom.

However the Nimbus was more than just a broom to Harry. It was something much more special. With the Nimbus he discovered the joys of flying; with the Nimbus he had only happy memories: his first quidditch match, swallowing the snitch and beating Malfoy, who had a newer version of the broom. His other broom, the Nimbus' replacement on the other hand had a more broken past, It was a gift from a lost godfather, trying to make up for his absence in Harry's life, Sirius was now dead and the broom lost during the battle over Little Whinging. The Nimbus was also a gift, a gift not because it was his birthday, Christmas or to say sorry. It was simply given because someone wanted to give it to him. Yes Professor McGonagall had wanted the best from the team, but Harry learnt the following summer while at Gringotts, that she had paid for the broom with her own money, no transaction had occurred from Harry's account since the previous summer. He did try harder in Transfiguration after that!

When he later showed this fragment of broom to his wife, she wordlessly took it into her small hand, waved her wand with the other, performing a spell which mounted the handle in a neat glass box. She then placed it on a shelf, along with other quidditch memorabilia. Harry sighed. Gin was good like that; she understood what that broom had meant to him.

As he went to sleep that night, tired by the day's unpacking, his small wife nestled in his arms, he dreamt about soaring through the Hogwarts Grounds into the endless sky.


	8. Mirror of Erised

**Just three words...**

**Mirror of Erised**

No one really knew the origin of the Mirror of Erised. There have been many theories, some say it was discovered by one of the founders in one of the caves in the rock on which they wanted to build their school. This founder then left this ancient mirror in its cavern, scared by what he saw in its depths and the power the mirror held. Others say it was created by one of the greatest wizards of all time, Merlin, to trick his treacherous apprentice the evil witch Morgan le Fey. She, according to the legend was too mesmerised by her deepest desire, so distracted, that Merlin was able to capture her and bring her to justice. One of the more eccentric theories held by some magical folk, is that the glass was created by the passionate and inquisitive Greek goddess Aphrodite, so she could see into men's souls and see if she was their greatest desire and then deal with the consequences.

Over the years the mirror has moved from various places around the castle: From the darkest caves, to the room of hidden things on the 7th floor, to the hidden classroom near the library, then finally to the subterranean chamber in the depths of the castle, where it was used to hide the Philosopher's Stone.

Many people over its thousands of years it has existed have looked into the mirror and have seen reflected, not an image of themselves but an image of their greatest desire. Some magic folk, passing the mirror quickly, have believed it was only a trick of light. Others have understood its purpose and have been fascinated by it and they have been left questioning themselves after their encounter. However some wizards and witches have been entranced by the images they have seen in the glass. They have been driven mad and they have wasted away slowly, absorbed by it. The image they have seen in it, haunting their thoughts and dreams. They have to back to the mirror, see their desire in front of them. Slowly they forget about the real world and live in the way of their desires, until one day they simply fade away.

Over the years, thousands of people have seen many different desires in the mirror. People have seen fame and fortune and they also have see family and love. Some people have seen the destruction of evil wizards and some have seen ultimate power. This mirror, as some have suggested, does not tell the future, nor does it show the past. It is merely a reflection of a person's greatest desire, however confusing it may be.

To this day the workings of the mirror remains a mystery. No one can fathom how it works like it does. Also no one knows its new location, hidden again after the Great Battle of Hogwarts, away from the world once more, always waiting for the next unsuspecting witch or wizard to come its way.


	9. Just in case

**Just three words...**

_**Just in case ~ Albus Dumbledore**_

'Come here lad' Ignotus Peverell whispered from his bed, to his young son, who was standing at the entrance to his father's bedchamber. 'I have something to give you' he stated weezing as he reached under his pillow and pulled out a silver cloak.

'What's that?' young Lancelot Perevell asked curiously staring at the fabric which was now in his father's hands.

'This my boy, is a cloak of invisibility, was given to me by an old friend along time ago, whom I shall be seeing soon, so now I must give it to you, use it well.'

'But why are you giving it to me now father?' Lancelot asked, now holding the cloak in his hands. He could feel the silky fabric beneath his fingertips. He looked down and saw that his hands had disappeared. 'Why now?' he asked his father again 'You're going to get better.'

'Maybe I will, son' the elder Perevell replied coughing slightly he closed his eyes and lay back on his pillow 'but just in case...'

* * *

><p>'Now I have something special to give you' Etheldreda Potter said to her eleven year old son, Alfred.<p>

'What?' he asked excitedly, wondering what else his mother wanted him to take in his chest to Hogwarts tomorrow.

'This' she replied, pulling out a silver cloak from within the folds of her green robes. Alfred peered closely at the material. 'It was your grandfather Peverell's' she continued 'he asked me to give it to you before he died.'

'A cloak?' Alfred wondered, what could be so important about some old cloak?

'This is no ordinary cloak, Alfie' Etheldreda replied 'it's an invisibility cloak, it will help disguise you from those who wish to cause you harm'. She then placed it around her son's small shoulders. Alfie glanced down to look where is body was supposed to be.

'My body's gone!' he exclaimed in shock, until that moment he had doubted that the cloak would have worked. Invisibility cloaks normally lost their magic after a couple of years. If this was his grandfather's it must be ancient! Carefully he handed it back to his mother, who folded it neatly and placed it on top of his new school robes before closing the heavy wooden lid of the chest, while muttering various incantations to make it water tight. Etheldreda knew from previous experience at the Hogwarts ship had a slight tendency to let in water, especially if the giant squid attacked it as it made its way from the River Thames to the Black lake at Hogwarts.

'Can I tell father about this?' Alfred asked, as his mother tucked him in that night. His Father, Lord Marcus Potter, whom he idolised, was away fighting in the centaur wars as was not home to see his eldest child off to start his magical education.

'No sweetheart' his mother replied as she kissed his forehead 'This is our little secret, remember to keep it close at all times, just in case.'

* * *

><p>'You're giving me your invisibility cloak?' James Potter asked his father, his hazel eyes wide with amazement...and excitement.<p>

'Yes' Charlus Potter replied, ruffling his son's already unruly black hair. He could the look in his son's eyes which told him that his son was already planning what mischief he could get up to.

'But why?' the eleven year old asked 'won't you need it on your Auror missions?'

'There are other ways to make yourself invisible so' he replied 'besides family tradition dictates that I should pass this cloak onto you before you start your education at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, That is how it has been for centuries. My father gave it to me, like his father had given it to him and now it is my turn to give it to you.'

Charlus Potter then placed the cloak in his son's hands and gave him a hug. He then looked out of window; dark clouds were gathering over the wizarding world, a new danger, greater that Grindewald, was coming and he wanted his precious son to be protected.

'Try to keep it a secret' He told his son 'only tell the people you trust about it.'

'Why?'

'Just in case'


End file.
